Prelude to a Kiss
by IronyRocks
Summary: The aftermath of Alpha's escape from the Dollhouse leaves Adelle frustrated and frayed around the edges, effecting her relationship with Dominic. Adelle/Dominic


**Title:** Prelude to a Kiss  
**Fandom:**Dollhouse  
**Pairing/Characters:** Adelle DeWitt/Laurence Dominic  
**Rating/Warnings:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Pre-series. The aftermath of Alpha's escape from the Dollhouse leaves Adelle frustrated and frayed around the edges. This is her house. This is her responsibility.  
**Disclaimer:** _Dollhouse_ does not belong to me.  
**Author's note:** 4.8k. This has been sitting silently in my harddrive for forever, and I pulled it out and brushed it off for the **dewitt_dominic** Two Week Celebration. I signed up for Friday's fic day, but I plan on doing other things then, so you get the fic a day early. (Yes, I suck at sticking to my own schedule.)

* * *

_"Mr. Dominic is my eyes and ears."_

* * *

There were times when Adelle mourned the safe dependability that had encapsulated her previous job overseeing stem cell research. For one as gifted with science as Adelle, she had never imagined that her talents would be used for something like the Dollhouse – until, that is, opportunity knocked on her door, quite literally, in the form of Clive Ambroise with a proposition. It wasn't the first time he had propositioned her, nor would it be the last. It was, however, the only time the proposition had been business related.

Six years later, there were moments, fleeting and often insignificant, where Adelle wondered how her life would have turned out had she said _no_. Would she have been happy? Successful? Engaged and enthralled by the work set out before her? Adelle had always been a curious woman that needed to be challenged; _potential_ had been the word tossed around since she was the tender age of eight.

_She has great potential to do so many things,_ Mrs. Hollister said, her fifth year science teacher. _Anything she sets her mind to, I'm sure she'll be able to do._

As she was escorted into red-soiled communal showers of Alpha's bloody handiwork, she wondered what Mrs. Hollister would think of her now. The bodies had been removed, as had the lone survivor – Echo. Still, the sight left little to the imagination. There was blood splashed everywhere, circling the drain, lining the shower walls, over the faucets and in the crevices of every fine line.

Adelle stopped in the center, then pivoted on one heel. "How did Alpha manage this?"

"A single blade, non-serrated, ten to twelve centimeters," Mr. Dominic informed. "The tendons in the extremities were severed first to disable the victims, and then the cuts were meticulous, almost surgical. As far as the timeframe has been established, we think each kill took eight seconds at most."

She shook her head, angrily. Moving to the far corner, Adelle stared off into the Atrium before she turned back to Dominic, voice rising. "How _in God's name_ did Alpha manage this?" she demanded forcefully, wanting far more than any forensic specialist could ever tell her. "Our security, our precautions, our defense grids. How exactly did one man, a doll without even an imprint, manage to overthrow our entire operation in less than fifteen minutes? How did he escape?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, Dominic answered, "I don't know, Ma'am."

"Unacceptable," Adelle returned in a frosted tone. "I hired you because you were the best. You said you could manage the integrity of this house using any measure necessary to protect it. The last two years, you've done well but this one incident may serve to erase whatever came before. Need I remind you, Mr. Dominic, that despite certain appearances, this building is in fact _not_ a spa facility. I was under the impression that the armed guards weren't here simply for show."

"They're not."

"Then why am I surrounded by the blood of innocent dolls?" Adelle demanded, then approached him in long, even strides. She came face-to-face with him, her expression hard and unforgiving. "Put this house back in order, Mr. Dominic, or else I'll find someone who can."

She left, striding out the door, unaware that her expensive Manolo Blahnik heels were tracking blood into the hallway. She thought about taking the stairs but at the last second deviated and took the elevator, then swept past Judith's desk without a glance. She informed her secretary that barring any further disasters, she wasn't to be interrupted within the next hour. She had calls to make; Rossum needed to be informed immediately. She also needed some time alone. Anger burned – not at Dominic, though he had served as an easy target. Oh, no, this disgust wasn't even aimed at the man that had done the slicing. This was her house.

This was _her_ mess.

Adelle reached for her favorite crystal decanter where she always left the vodka well in stock. She poured herself a drink. As she rested with her back against the cool cushioning of her leather sofa, she crossed her legs and listed the Actives she'd lost, one name at a time.

As it needn't merit a mention, Alpha was a glaring absence.

* * *

_"What? Did you think I'd show you mercy? Or rage?  
Three years by my side. I think you'd know me better than that."_

* * *

Within the next hour and a half, she had three more drinks. She didn't often indulge in this excess. One or two drinks per day was only normal for Adelle, who had a high tolerance for alcohol since she was in her early twenties. This, however, was clearly an indulgence. Days like this, she thought she rather had the right to it.

Still, work demanded her attention and she certainly couldn't ignore it, grim details though they were. She shuffled through the personnel files; seven actives, five guards, three handlers, one doctor and even her driver (Alpha had taken her silver Mercedes S 500 in his escape). The next of kin would be notified only once a proper cover story was set in place. Adelle made a note to include hefty coverage for the surviving family members; it was the least Rossum could do.

In the meantime, her house was still vulnerable. Less than eight hours after the incident, and Adelle was distinctly aware that Alpha had laid them wide open for further attacks by rendering their security so thoroughly obsolete. She made a call to Judith, instructing her to send down the files of perspective handlers and security men to her office.

"Mr. Dominic is already reviewing them," Judith informed her over the phone.

Adelle paused, mind cast back to her parting words to her Head of Security. She took another sip of her drink. "Send him up here," she ordered, and hung up.

Ten minutes later, there were two knocks at her door and Mr. Dominic entered. He was, as always, cool and collected when he approached her desk. "Ma'am."

"What are we doing to get security up and running again?"

"There's a list of candidates I'm reviewing. I should have a final list for permanent replacements shortly, and Judith will schedule interviews for your office tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I've ordered all off-duty security to return to the office for tonight."

It shouldn't have surprised her, not after her experiences with Dominic these last two and a half years, but his efficiency was proving more ruthless than hers. She swiveled in her chair and rose, then approached the bar. She poured herself a drink, then another for Dominic. He never drank. Not usually. But tonight, Adelle felt one more aberration wasn't going to crumble the house – not this one, anyway.

"Vodka," she offered, holding the glass towards him. She could see the protest almost spill forth, but Dominic took one look at her, holding her gaze evenly for a long beat, then took the drink. "How many candidates have you determined thus far?"

"For permanent replacement? I've got a couple that I like."

"Any handlers?" Adelle always took greater interests in the handlers; they worked so closely with her Actives, her charges. She always looked for certain attributes in them. "I wasn't aware that we had any potentials that had completed the vetting process yet."

"We may have to expedite that at little. At least in regards to some candidates."

She looked up. "Who?"

"There's a few. A man named Boyd Langton, another named Hearn..."

* * *

_"I never lied to you about my methods or my priorities."_

* * *

They worked through much of the night.

By the time it was well past 2 am, Adelle settled a hip against her desk and glanced down at the folder. Her vision blurred – from the alcohol or the lack of rest, she couldn't tell and she didn't care. It had been a grueling day, and as soon as they handled one issue, six others lined up to be dealt with.

"We still have to discuss what we're going to do with Echo and Whiskey," Dominic said.

Adelle paused. The only two survivors of Alpha's bloodbath. Echo seemed physically unharmed, a detail that stuck out quite readily in such a massacre. "Of all the disconcerting fallout," Adelle offered, "Echo is the least of our concerns. She suffered neither physically nor emotionally."

There was a heavy pause, before Dominic prodded, "Why did Alpha leave her alive? There's something wrong with this picture—"

Adelle gave a short, derisive laugh. "Many things, Mr. Dominic."

"I think you need to seriously consider putting in further psychological testing for the actives."

An apt suggestion, considering the compositing event.

"Especially of Echo," Dominic pressed.

Adelle looked up at him. "Why is it that you're focusing on this girl?"

Dominic's agitation flared, his shoulders tensing. "Because everybody else was carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey, and Echo wasn't even touched."

"That certainly wasn't her fault. She had as much to do with the killings as you or I. Besides, right now I'm more concerned about what we're going to do with Whiskey."

The cuts would scar, and it was only sensible logic that pointed out an unattractive doll was a broken doll. Adelle smoothed a hand down the wrinkles of her skirt, then sat back in her chair with her legs crossed. What could she do with Whiskey? Her house was in current disarray, and they didn't even have the medical resources to take proper care of her because of Dr. Saunder's untimely death.

That left the option of the Attic.

Adelle wondered if yet another drink might be pushing it.

"I think that's all for tonight," Adelle suddenly announced, weary with it all. She unfolded her legs and stood, glancing quickly aside to find Dominic hadn't moved once from his spot across from her, arms crossed behind his back, spine stiff and straight, a soldier at attention. "I'll see you in the morning, Mr. Dominic."

"Ma'am," he began with protest, "I'm actually going to have to escort you to your home."

"What?"

He paused, delicately. "Your driver…"

Of course. Her driver was dead. She recomposed quickly and waved the topic away. "I'll drive myself home, Mr. Dominic. I do know how to drive."

"I insist," Dominic pressed, voice as hard-edged as he got with her.

She realized instantly why he seemed persistent about this little detail. It wasn't just chivalry – though he did have that trait, didn't he? No, he was functioning in his role as Head of Security, and the threat was far from over. The thought of Alpha waiting for her at her home ran rampant through Adelle's mind before she could stifle the imagery. A shiver worked up her spine, and Adelle turned away, hoping to cover for the falter by grabbing her coat. Dominic stepped forward to help her shrug it on – it wasn't anything unusual. He frequently did so, and it was nothing more than the gentlemanly thing to do, but this time Adelle had to repress the urge to sink back into his touch, let it linger for a moment longer than necessary.

She straightened. "Well… let's?"

He nodded, and side-by-side, they strode out into the hallway.

* * *

_"It's _embarrasing,_ how naive you are. You believe in the Dollhouse, in its mission?  
It's like you believed in me, and look how that played out."_

* * *

The car ride was suffocating and silent. Work had been concluded, and there wasn't any pressing need to discuss anymore of it tonight. Small talk had always been beyond either of them. Fluid, professional, easy – their conversations had always been an effortless play between them. Imagine how surprised she'd been when she'd first discovered her new hire for a no-nonsense security man was also a man that had a sense of humor and an default acerbity that mirrored her own. Today's events had thrown them for a loop, however, and this silence was far from the normal comfort.

Adelle thought back to her earlier reprimand of his performance. It had been uncalled for, she knew. Alpha's compositing and his scarily affective dismemberment of the security forces was a thing beyond imaging. Dominic had done what he'd always done – the best under the circumstances. Her threat to find another man to take his job was largely a hollow one, and that surprised her in a certain light. She wasn't the type to bluff. Still, hiring Dominic had turned out to be one of the smartest decisions she had made since acquiring hold of this house.

She trusted him, and Adelle wasn't the type to trust.

The car came to a slow stop. She nearly sighed but the action was carefully internalized. Adelle shifted against the leather seat, and then quickly slipped out of the car. Behind her, without word, Dominic had parked the car and emerged as well. He followed her up the stairs for a few seconds, before he slipped past her and lead the way. His gun was drawn – eyes alert, hands steady, his crisp black suit formed fittingly around the hard lines of his body. If she wasn't a more pragmatic and cynical woman, she might've called him her knight in shining armor tonight.

He entered the house first. She waited but a few seconds before following him in, then hit the five-digit access code to disarm her alarm. Its security was nearly laughable; such a thing would be well within Alpha's skill set to neutralize. She stood in the elegant foyer of her house, the beams of the streetlights flooding in to illuminate the otherwise oppressive darkness. She switched a light on, watching from afar as Dominic steadily made his way through the house, one room at a time. When he finally declared it clear, she carefully shut the door behind her. Adelle dropped her keys onto the table in the front hall, then turned on the pivot of one heel to survey the area.

Dominic emerged from the shadows of her stairs. "All clear, ma'am."

She nodded. "Yes, well. Your professionalism is much appreciated, Mr. Dominic."

"Just doing my job, ma'am."

"Yes," she agreed, and her voice dropped a notch. "And you do it well."

There was a brief reaction, where his eyes connected with hers and Adelle was sure that her earlier reprimand was flashing through both of their minds simultaneously. She hoped he'd take this as the apology it was meant to be.

Dominic straightened, saying nothing. She smiled. They had always worked beyond the necessity of words.

"A drink before you go, Mr. Dominic?"

"Thank you, but I really should stay clear—"

"Nonsense," she cut in. "You didn't have the drink I offered you at the office— don't think I didn't notice. One glass won't affect your reflexes, or have I misjudged your tolerance for alcohol?"

He smiled, an easy one, and something within Adelle's chest constricted and then contracted. "I suppose one drink wouldn't be the end of the world."

She guided him to the bar in the back. When she flipped a switch, it illuminated her lightly colored living room, adorned with sleek furniture, two classic impressionist paintings, and a wide-open layout that made the best use of the tricks that California sunlight afforded her. She had spent thousands upon thousands of dollars getting this room to look just the way it did.

Today, she rather hated it.

She wanted something that matched her mood and the devastation of the 17 souls lost. This was an occasion that called for dark, dreary colors and closed spaces. She wanted something that was the total opposite of the warm soothing colors of her dollhouse, a contrast of light and dark, open and closed... the promise of life and the resulting destruction of it.

She turned to him. "Pick your poison."

"Single malt scotch will be fine," he replied. She began pouring the drink, but nearly faltered when Dominic spoke up again. "Today wasn't your fault, ma'am."

"Hmm?"

"Today," he repeated, then stepped closer. "It wasn't your fault. Alpha was an aberration that no one could have seen coming. Anybody else that claims otherwise is a fool."

"You saw it coming," she replied, when she turned to face him. "You pointed out more than once the unusual behavior. What was one of them? Ah, yes, his finger-painting. You've got an eye for detail."

Dominic cleared his throat. "I suspected he was faulty. I never suspected this."

"Still, you made your opinion known and I underestimated it. As the quaint saying goes, the buck stops here. The House is my responsibility. No one else's. I gave those poor souls my word. I fed them a line about a better life, and today Alpha proved me a liar with a demonstration that left quite a number of exclamation points at the end of the sentence."

"Ma'am—"

"If you insist on continuing with a pep-talk," she said, handing him a glass. "I think that qualifies outside the parameters of your job description. Call me Adelle for tonight."

She turned away to retrieve her own drink, and there was a heavy silence that filled the air. In it, Adelle imagined that Dominic was thinking a great many deal of things, and not all of them were off their marks. She'd always felt an attraction to Dominic, a quiet lust tainted with sentiment. He was safe, dependable, strong, but there was a sense of danger about him that made him also quite dashing. She was only a woman, and a woman noticed these things. Of course she'd suppressed these observations with the normal sense of professionalism, but tonight, she was unglued and wanted to revel some in the destruction.

"You aren't a true believer, are you?"

"A believer in what?" Dominic asked.

She turned towards him with a faint smile. "A believer in the Dollhouse. In its message."

"I do the job I'm paid to do, but if I didn't believe in my work, I wouldn't be able to keep coming back every day."

"You surprise me. I could have sworn you were far too cynical to believe in the Dollhouse's true work. We're going to revolutionize so many things. I've always believed that. The medicine, the technology, the advances - we're going to save the world one day."

Dominic nodded.

She quirked an eyebrow. "See, Mr. Dominic? You're not a very gifted liar. Protest all you want, but you have this look in your eyes that I can read. You're not a believer." Her smile widened. "You don't for a second buy that what we're doing here is good for the world. For humanity. To you, this is a job like any other."

"With all due respect, ma'am, no. It's not."

She pointed a finger towards him, the scotch sloshing in her glass. "I told you that you can call me Adelle for tonight."

There was a brief pause. "Adelle," he began, and she rather liked the way he said it, almost softly. Laurence Dominic didn't do many things _soft_. "Don't do this."

"Do what?"

"Blame yourself. You're only responsible for so many things."

She told herself it was only natural that he show some concern for her, but the truth was, the faint fluttering in her belly in response to such concern was not at all professional or distant.

That line of thinking was indeed ill-advised at best, and catastrophic at worst. Could she afford another weak moment, one that could potentially destroy yet another solid foundation in her life? (Like, say, her steadfast belief in the innocence of an Active's blank state.) Dominic was her closest and greatest ally, but tonight she wasn't looking for professionalism. Tonight, she _needed_ solace, a touch of companionship – an indulgence that she knew better than to embrace.

And she trusted Dominic. More than, she realized, rather abruptly, any other person alive.

She flinched, turning away. How pitiful was that? Adelle, a women in her prime, successful, beautiful, not too bad of a catch if she said so herself. And the closest relationship she had in the world was to a man that was paid to obey her. It said more than enough, and Adelle took a quick sip from her drink before she turned to face Dominic again.

He was standing far closer than she'd realized, nearly colliding with her as she turned. His reflexes were quick, steadying her against his frame. For a beat, she felt the heat of his hand on the small of her back, his other on her forearm. Their bodies were inches apart from each other, and she connected with his gaze. There, she saw something that made her body warm, that _look_ Dominic would sometimes get in his eyes – lust, appreciation, adoration, Adelle wasn't sure what she could call it. She simply knew it made her heart beat quicker every time, and the effect was double so with his proximity so close to her.

She blindly set the drink down on the table behind her, cupped his face, and kissed him without further provocation. It was impulsive, rash, but bloody hell, it felt good. Her whole body was brought into the act as she settled chest to chest and pressed her body against the length of him. She slipped her tongue inside his mouth, and the kiss was dark and seductive and _slow_. That surprised her, because in all her little daydreams and ill-advised fantasies over the years, Dominic had always been the one to initiate the kiss, something no doubt demanding and aggressive.

It needn't matter, because this kiss was all her favorite things. He sunk his hands in the curves of her body, and Adelle melted into him. He had a heady taste to him, overwhelming and warm, and though she'd been drinking all night, it was the taste of a single sip of scotch on his tongue that made her feel drunk. When they pulled back, exhaling heavily, she was captivated by the way he swallowed a breath, how the moonlight from her large bayside windows highlighted the strong line of his throat and the bob of his Adam's apple.

"Adelle," he breathed, softly. So soft, and tinged with an emotion far more dangerous and potent than mere lust. His next words, then, surprised her. "We have to stop."

For a long beat, she didn't register the word. _Stop_ was hardly in the vocabulary of things she wanted to do at the moment, the thrill of forbidden desire already kindling low in her belly. She pulled back, studying his face, and then Dominic stepped back, hands falling free at his sides. He took a deep, drawn out breath, glanced away, and his hands formed into tight fists.

"This will complicate things," he said, filling the painful silence. "I want this. God, Adelle, you have no idea how _much_ I want this, but… but we're in a business that exploits weaknesses. We can't do this. It'll just make things worse, especially in the end."

She stood stiffly, the bite of rejection darkening her cheeks. She eventually turned away, cleared her throat, and attempted to regroup and muster some semblance of dignity. She'd miscalculated him, something that she hadn't done with a man in – god, she couldn't even remember when. Suddenly, the flutter of anxiety and her mortification demanded damage control.

"Of course," she quickly regrouped. "Your professionalism is unerring, Mr. Dominic. I'm glad one of us remembered—"

His face was pinched with worry. "Adelle—"

"That'll be all," she cut in. "Please shut the door on your way out."

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and released another forceful breath; the steadfast and ever-cool Mr. Dominic felt unhinged and frustrated, at least. She felt no small measure of satisfaction at that; at least she wasn't the only one thrown by this… lust, for lack of a better word. After a beat, he turned, striding away from her with tense shoulders. She watched him quickly walk away, and apparently he still had sense enough left to activate her alarm system again before she heard the slam of the front door.

Her legs beneath suddenly felt weak, left alone in her obscenely large living room with wide open spaces and bay windows and ridiculously expensive furnishings. She caved at the knees, settling heavily on a corner chair, and after a deafening few moments of silence, she looked up and reached for her drink again.

The rest of the night turned into a blur.

* * *

_"That's what this whole operation was about, right? Giving people what they want. No, no, no, no. What they __need_. Everybody needs to get away, to slip out of their lives. The thing they couldn't do, the girl they couldn't have..."

* * *

The next day, Adelle bracketed herself with interview after interview in order to avoid the absolute mess she'd made of things with Dominic. In hindsight, despite the throbbing and blinding hangover that left her in a foul mood, she knew it had been _her_ fault, not his. She was the one that had let emotions get the better of her. She was the one that had one too many drinks. She was the one that had escalated things far beyond what was appropriate, given their relationship.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Hearn," Adelle said, wrapping up yet another interview. This one was for a Handler position, and the man in front of her seemed capable enough. She had missed a few details here and there, but she tried to refocus back onto the matter at hand. "We'll get back to you as soon as we can."

"Thank you, Ms. DeWitt."

"Do you have any questions before you go?"

"Well, I suppose just one. How many Actives does this house employ?"

"At the moment we've been left short-staffed on several fronts due to… an unfortunate incident. However, we're receiving some transfers from other houses, and we're always on the lookout for new recruits."

Mr. Hearn smiled. "Well, that's good to know. I hate to keep idle hands."

She smiled, and the man left without Adelle giving him a further thought. She returned to her desk, finding a few files open and one, in particular, caught her eye. Anthony Ceccoli, a.k.a Victor, was a potential new active that she was hoping to acquire before the weekend. He was handsome – as were all actives. But there was something about him that left Adelle frequently returning to his profile picture. Strong jaw, kind eyes, sharp features…

The door opened and Dominic entered.

He came to stand in front of her desk, arms crossed at his back, just like any other day. Still, there was a slight tension to his shoulders that she doubted many would have picked up. Adelle, of course, could. She quietly closed the folder in front of her. She'd been anxious all day about this, and it was growing to be too much. They needed to put this behind them. She didn't relish the thought of acknowledging any part of what happened last night, but she wasn't a woman that cowered away from anything. She stood strong, tall and carried on no matter what.

So that was what Adelle was going to do.

"It was just a kiss," Adelle began without prelude. "Given our proximity and the years we've known each other, it's only to be expected that we would have at least one of those moments."

There was a hard vein in Dominic's neck that flexed. "I suppose."

She titled her head, a faint smile on her lips. "Come now, Mr. Dominic. We live in the House of Love, where desires and needs are freely acknowledged as the bedrock of our entire organization. We cannot be so puritan in the expectations of our own actions. We're human. Man and woman. We kissed. There is no need to further complicate it by analyzing it any more."

He cleared his throat, still standing stiffly. "As always, you're right, ma'am."

_Ma'am_. She hid a flinch, recovering with a cool and professional smile. "Let's begin a new day, shall we?"

After a beat, Dominic nodded. Together, even if awkward and slightly jarring, they set forth on business matters once again. Whiskey's predicament was the first priority, but even as they worked side-by-side, there was something off about their movements. She hoped this phase would pass, and quickly. Given both of their penchants towards professionalism, she had no doubt they'd be back to their normal routine at some point. It was just a matter of time.

Still, something left her bereft, a faint feeling that made her think an opportunity had slipped through her fingers. She pushed it aside quickly. They were destined for a simple working relationship, filled with stable professionalism and reliance. She could live with that, and Dominic was still her best man.

It'd be a mistake to further jeopardize that.

* * *

_"No! No, you bitch. I'd rather die."  
"Well, I'd rather you didn't."_

fin.


End file.
